


brilliant

by perennials



Series: the hormonal high schooler's guide to falling in love [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, well more like junior college but whatever, what the fuc am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7145981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you asking me out? And are you staring at my ass?"</p>
<p>"Yes,” Hisoka answers, truthfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	brilliant

**Author's Note:**

> everything's gone to hell- the timeline, the coherence, the characterization, i don't know anymore. all i know is they are eighteen here. there are two possibilities here, aight:  
> a) this is set in the past, so where gon and killu are currently high schoolers hisok and illumi have long since graduated and are suitably Old  
> b) this is set in the present, illumi and hisok have been aged down by about a decade so the age gap between illumi and killua as siblings is shrunken down to about three years. this is hard to believe and hard to work with but i want to write future interactions between them in this verse so i'm really not sure what im gonna do go figure

Biscuit Krueger is thirty-nine and tiny and _tired_ of dealing with delinquent-types flaunting outrageous(ly horrible) taste in fashion and snot-nosed teenagers that think they know all there is to know about the world. It is eleven in the morning, and instead of peacefully enjoying a cup of finely-sugared milk tea she's stuck in the stuffy Butterfly Room (they should've just called it the counseling room as she'd helpfully suggested, really) with a pair of idiots. This isn't the first time she has been put in charge of the graduating batch, but it may very well be the first time she's been met with problematic students as openly disdainful as these two.

 

To put it truthfully, things are not going as well as she might have liked them to. To put it very frankly, everything is going to _shit_. Both seem thoroughly uninterested in a) their futures and b) what she has to say about them; one has produced a compact mirror and a stick of liquid eyeliner and is scrutinizing his reflection, the other is avidly ceiling-gazing while humming the theme song from Elmo's World.

 

"You," she frowns at the occupant of seat no. 1, "turned in a blank form. Which we cannot accept."

 

"And _you_ ," she continues, stern voice accentuated with a pointed glare aimed at the occupant of seat no. 2, "wrote that you wanted to become a serial killer. Which we also can't accept."

 

Two pairs of eyes turn nonchalantly towards her.

 

Sighing, Biscuit leans an elbow on the scratched-up table and rests her chin in her hand. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

 

"With all due respect, seeing how I come from a family of vicious corporate masterminds my becoming a serial killer wouldn't be considered as straying too far from the path, would it? They already create plenty of figurative death and destruction as it is," The occupant of seat no. 2, Illumi, raises his hand and protests mildly.

 

"There's a difference between ending flourishing careers and ending lives," Biscuit scowls, eyebrows drawn to a point.

 

"But killing sounds funner." Illumi tilts his head to one side in question.

 

"It certainly does," his temporary comrade-in-arms, Hisoka, drawls to his left. Visibly alarmed, Illumi flicks his gaze over to the cat-faced Hisoka and does a double-take at him as though he has just noticed the other's presence for the first time.

 

"Look," Biscuit presses her hand to her face in abject annoyance, "both of you have exemplary grades and, ahem, _reasonable_ conduct scores, so if you'd just apply to the local university or something I'm sure your parents would be happy with that."

 

"I don't have parents," Hisoka reminds her with a pleasant smile. _Ah, shit_. Biscuit flinches almost imperceptibly. Family is a sensitive matter for most, if not all, of the students here, but with the bizarre, plastic way Hisoka's grinning at her right now even Biscuit finds herself not quite sure of how she should approach the subject.

 

Swallowing hard, she ventures, "regardle—"

 

Illumi cuts her off before the word can even form fully on her tongue. "Wait, I have an idea. If I killed this guy—"

 

"It's Hisoka," he chimes in helpfully.

 

"—this Hozier guy, wouldn't that immediately make me a serial killer?"

 

Hisoka's smile twists into a smirk. "You would kill me?" He regards Illumi with a cocktail mix of curiosity and amusement.

 

"No." Biscuit bristles. "Young man, you will _not_ be doing any killing under my watch."

 

"Yes," Illumi declares with easy conviction. "I would."

 

Hisoka's reply is a trifle excitable and very coy. "I'd like to see you try."

 

//

 

Illumi finds his would-be target loitering around in a deserted corner of the school garden during lunch break a few days later, trimming the withering rose bushes with shocking neon pink nails. Stepping past the giggling year threes huddled together a few meters away, dry brown grass positively crackling under his polished heels, he comes to a halt in front of Hisoka.

 

They stare at each other in silence for half a beat.

 

"Ah, Hollandaise. Would it be okay if I killed you?" Illumi asks, efficient and straight to the point as always.

 

Hisoka looks up with that same irksome smile spread wide across his cheeks. "Be my guest, Looney Tunes."

 

Of course, he's not entirely serious about this proposition (and Hisoka suspects Illumi isn't either), but in an environment where more than half of the population wants you dead for having flawless grades (and grace) and the remainder are too intimidated to even approach you, one must go to great lengths to find sources of entertainment, no matter how unorthodox. Illumi squats down beside him, extends pale, slender fingers towards the rosebush, and snaps a branch cleanly in two. Hisoka follows him with his eyes, notes the fluidity with which he moves and the careful composure he displays even when hunched over in the scorching rays of the mid-afternoon sun. The quality of his lineage shines through like a lighthouse beacon wrapped in the cold embrace of night.

 

Illumi examines the rosebud with detached curiosity, twirls the thorn-studded stem between his fingers with quick, short movements. Something in him gives, the plasticity of his existence melding into a softer, mellower roundness. "Actually, I change my mind. I don't really want to kill you after all." Illumi articulates this quite lightly, despite the alleged severity of his words.

 

"You seemed quite serious when you said all that to Krueger the other day." Hisoka lets his gaze wander down the smooth planes of Illumi's back; his hair is liquid midnight cascading down the stark white of his uniform, the collared shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants revealing a delicate, slim waist.

 

"Mmm, fighting is fun. All you have to do is swing your fists and kick where it hurts, so you don't have to do much thinking," Illumi remarks thoughtfully. "My family's business is all about fox-faced lying and underhanded exchanges, it's a hassle to deal with."

 

"Is that so." Hisoka feels almost offended that he hadn't been presented with the opportunity to speak with this fascinating person earlier— Illumi's piqued his interest quite a bit. He cradles the rose he plucked earlier and absentmindedly begins to unfurl the tightly-wound petals, one by one.

 

"I was just having a bit of fun, really. In the end I'll still have to inherit the family business, shitty restrictions and all, so might as well kick up a fuss while I can." Illumi sighs resignedly, dropping the flower in his hand and turning to Hisoka with expressionless, empty eyes.

 

All of a sudden Hisoka is struck with a fireball-bright light of an idea, one that buzzes in his veins and hums in his ears and sends a jolt of excitement running through him like electricity.

 

"I can help you with that, if you'd like," he starts slyly, and Illumi's eyes widen a fraction of an inch.

 

"—for a price, of course."

 

//

 

The price turns out to be a lock of hair (it is too exquisite a treasure to pass up), and the proffered help the suggestion that they stage a kidnapping, where Illumi is the victim and Hisoka is the culprit.

 

"You're disgusting," Illumi tells him over the top of his towering strawberry smoothie with extra cream.

 

Hisoka, perpetually cheery as he is, accepts his insult graciously. "I'll take that as a yes." He stirs his black coffee idly with one gleaming, manicured nail.

 

The quietest hint of displeasure flits across Illumi's stoic expression, but he doesn't move to correct him.

 

//

 

"We have the premises surrounded, armed forces zeroed in on your location, police cars stationed around the perimeter, and a helicopter on the rooftop," Silva Zoldyck speaks coldly into the receiver, voice low and gravelly and barely-controlled anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

 

"Is that so?" Hisoka chuckles and makes a face at Illumi, who rolls his eyes and looks away. "Well, Mr. Zoldyck, I have a knife to your son's throat."

 

Wordlessly Illumi crawls over to the side of the classroom that's cast in murky shadow and rummages around in his bag. Procuring a larger-than-normal pen knife with triumph, he tosses it to Hisoka, who catches it effortlessly. The junior high-student-turned-kidnapper mouths an exaggerated _thank you_ at him, then wedges the phone between his shoulder and his ear and begins making his way towards Illumi.

 

"Would you like a photo?" Hisoka's tone is teasing, almost playful as he extends the blade and presses the blunt end to the smooth stretch of skin along Illumi's neck. Catching on to the idea, Illumi shifts around until his hands are clasped behind his back.

 

_Three, two, one._ Hisoka raises his fingers and performs the customary countdown before pressing the camera button and capturing what he figures must be The Perfect Kidnapping shot. Immediately after Illumi reverts back to his previous position (seated on the floor with his legs drawn up to his chest and arms folded on his knees), while Hisoka sends the photo to Silva along with a slew of emojis.

 

_ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ⋆ don't worry, i haven't done anything to him (yet) ⋆ ;^) :333_

_(photo attachment)_

 

//

 

"It's a _pen knife_ ," Kikyo Zoldyck wails, the sound crescendoing and bouncing sharply off the domed ceiling of the Zoldyck residence's living room as it becomes increasingly apparent to her that this is not one of those violent teenage video games Milluki's constantly yammering on and on about.

 

Silva presses the flat of his palm to his forehead. "Let me speak to Illumi."

 

"Of course, of course." There's scuffling and shuffling from the other end of the line, a hastily whispered _fuck_ , and then—

 

"Good afternoon, father. How have you been?" A familiar, lifelessly upbeat voice slithers in through the receiver.

 

"Get back here, Illumi." Silva, like his son, has his priorities sorted out in a neat, factory-production line. Bluntly ignoring Illumi's greeting, he goes on, "you're strong enough to take on one teenage boy by yourself, armed or not."

 

"But this guy's _really_ strong," Illumi sighs offhandedly.

 

Exasperated, Silva gives up on talking to the kidnapee and resorts to trying to reason with the kidnapper. "What do you want," he demands, and this sends Hisoka into a fit of laughter, because, really, if corporate power will make even a man with his son on the cusp of death believe he's somehow in charge of the situation, then Illumi must be even more off-kilter than he'd initially thought.

 

"Oh, I don't know. How does an all-expenses-paid-for trip for two to the Caribbeans sound?" Rather than testing the waters, it looks more like Hisoka's cannon-balled right into the deepest ends of the ocean.

 

"I'm not here to play games," Silva responds curtly. A little ways off Kikyo has passed out, sprawled dramatically across the gemstone-inlaid coffee table with one hand poised on her forehead and the other laid flat across her stomach.

 

"Then how about an all-you-can-eat buffet for two at Lava Rocks?" Hisoka suggests cheerfully.

 

A pause. And then, with thinly-veiled skepticism, "will you return my son unharmed?"

 

"You have my word."

 

It must be that this time Silva senses something akin to honesty creeping through in Hisoka's airy reply, for he accepts the offer, albeit grudgingly.

 

"When are you free?" Hisoka asks as Illumi rises slowly to his feet and stretches, almost sensually, like a lithe jaguar.

 

"Are you asking me out? And are you staring at my ass?"

 

"Yes,” Hisoka answers, truthfully.

 

"Tuition classes for next Wednesday are cancelled, so I'm free then." Illumi goes against Hisoka's expectations by responding neither negatively nor positively to his ambiguous half-confession. It seems he's still got a ways to go before he's fully puzzled out Illumi's character.

 

"Then it's a date."

 

//

 

Three weeks later Biscuit Krueger is seated, once again, in one of the many uncomfortably rigid plastic chairs that litter the terribly-named Butterfly Room. On the other side of the scratched-up table two seats are presently being occupied by two discerning members of this year's graduating class. It's certainly not the most ideal of situations, and Biscuit would definitely much rather be back in the air-conditioned bliss of the staff room, catching up on the week's notable incidents with Palm and the other young teachers, but this time, she's obtained permission to bring beverages inside. That makes all the difference.

 

With a content little smile she unscrews the cap on her canteen and pours a steaming stream of finely-sugared milk tea into a dainty teacup. "I trust you've thought things over properly over the last few weeks." Biscuit sips primly at her tea.

 

One hums in agreement; the other remains silent, fingers the jagged ends of a lock of hair almost woefully.

 

"What's it gonna be?" Biscuit eyes them suspiciously.

 

The occupant of seat no. 2, Illumi, raises his hand. "I've decided to take a gap year. After that, if the circumstances allow it, I'll apply for the Ivy League university up south. You know, the one with the award-winning economics course."

 

After a brief moment of contemplation Biscuit nods her approval. "And what about you?"

 

The occupant of seat no. 1, Hisoka, flashes a brief, cheshire-cat smile.

 

"I'll go wherever he's going."

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for readin bud. i've written so much killugon i almost died from the glucose overdose so here i am with a largely different set of vocabulary and weird-ass plots and QUESTIONABLE, highly questionable character interactions. these two are weird as hell what can i say. anyway if ya liked it leave a kudo or a comment or don't, whatever floats ur boat rlly
> 
> have a good one


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